


Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you (Billdip Week 2017, Day 3)

by immortalhubbys



Series: Billdip Week 2017 [3]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, M/M, POC Bill Cipher, and i just really needed to let that out, bill is trying not to be a mess, i love him so much, ops - Freeform, this may or may not reference several other one shot i already wrote, why am i like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-01-06 06:59:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12206190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immortalhubbys/pseuds/immortalhubbys
Summary: Bill is not very exceptional when it comes down to dealing with his feelings, but now that Dipper died he is forced to learn to deal with his feelings in a healthy manner.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is supposed to have two parts, but given how much time I have on my hands I only have time for one part. I'll write and post the second after Billdip Week, I promise.

Bill forced himself out of the bed, looking at the empty space where just yesterday his husband laid. He wished he could say he had his heart broken, but, frankly, the sight made him feel nothing. He sighed, wishing he hurt as much as he did when it happened as he made his way to the bathroom. 

He took a shower, letting the hot water run down his body and relax him. He leaned against the wall, letting his head fall as he tried to clear his mind. He wasn't going to turn into a wreck just because Dipper died. It would've been truly a shame if he did, especially given how much he tried to do his best all of these years. 

He brushed his hair afterwards, putting it in a ponytail, and then he brushed his teeth as well, as quickly as he could. He didn't stop to take a glance in the mirror as he rushed out of the bathroom and straight into the kitchen. The last thing he wanted was to see his reflection. He felt like a horrible being because he wasn't a crying mess and that was just the tip of the iceberg. 

During the night that just passed Bill laid in bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about every single memory he had of Dipper. He held those memories close to him because as painful as they were they were all he had left of his husband. All he had left that he wouldn't have to give up at some point, at the very least. 

The only downside of the way he spent his night was that although he felt a little less lonely, he insisted on thinking of every time he didn't make Dipper the happiest person in the world. Those small moments when Dipper had been unhappy, be it, or not, in any way, shape, or form Bill's fault, tore at Bill's heart even more than the fact that Dipper was dead did.

He knew that his husband had a happy life by his side. He knew that not every second of your life was supposed to be happy, even if you lived your life with the love of your life. He knew that despite their unhappy moments, both him and Dipper were happy at the end of the day, even if just because they had each other. He knew all of that, but his mind wouldn't even hear it. Because of that he awaited the morning so he could start his daily routine and take his mind off things.

He looked through the cabinets for his meds, finding them in one a drawer. He stared at the bottles that were in front of him, not all his own. He took the bottles that belonged to him, not ready quite yet to throw the others away. He knew he needed to do it, but he just couldn't. The thought that Dipper was never coming back didn't fully settle in and until then, for Bill at the very least, it was as if Dipper was just at a conference somewhere and was coming back in a few days.

Bill closed the drawer and took his pills, one by one, not in any hurry. He had plenty of time now. He took the bottles and put them in a different drawer when he was finished, not wanting to cross paths with the bottles he needed to throw out. He didn't need to have it reminded twice a day, every single day, that his husband was dead. 

Bill then turned on the radio, letting whatever radio station was on play in the background as he opened the fridge, examining how much food there was. He realized, to his dismay, that the fridge was full. He remembered going to do the groceries only merely two days ago and he sighed. He looked around, evaluating his options and deciding to go with a simple fruit salad. 

He took out all the fruit he wanted and cut them into small cubes, dumping them into a bowl as he hummed along with the song that was on the radio. He put ice cream and whipped cream on top when he finished and he admired his creation. The bell rang and Bill went to open the door. As soon as he opened the door Mabel entered the apartment, inviting herself in. 

"Well, hello to you too, Shooting Star!" Bill said as he closed the door and went in the kitchen. He frowned as soon as he saw that Mabel started eating his fruit salad, but he didn't say anything. She must've been feeling horrible aswell and Bill could make himself another one at any time, so it really wasn't a problem.

"Sorry!" Mabel breathed out, realizing her mistake and pushing the bowl away from her. "I'm sorry for eating your food and bursting in like I own the place." She added a few seconds later. "It's fine. Eat it. And don't apologise, I know it's hard for you too." Bill said, arms crossed over his chest. He leaned against the doorframe and nodded at Mabel, when he saw that she didn't went back at eating the fruit salad. "Thanks." She said and she ate a spoonful of fruit salad. 

"How did you sleep last night?" Bill asked. Even without his powers he could still feel when someone didn't sleep enough and Mabel fit right into that category. If Bill had to guess how much she slept, he would say between 1 and 2 hours, which was far from enough. "I'm not sure. Not a lot. I couldn't sleep doesn't matter how much I tried. I didn't cry tho, so that's good, I guess." She said, averting her gaze from Bill's.

"Understandable, but don't let this become a habit. I can help if you need it." Bill said, his tone emotionless, his expression matching. Mabel wondered how he did it. How he seemed so unbothered by it. "You?" She asked, Bill humming in response. "How did you sleep last night?" "I didn't, but I don't need it, unlike you, so it's not a problem." Bill said, making sure to add the disclaimer at the end, before Mabel started questioning him. 

"Frankly, I thought I'd be doing worse." Bill said, a phantom of a smile on his face. "I didn't even cry once. I feel kind of bad for that." Bill admitted, looking anywhere but at Mabel. "Don't. You still love him even if you don't cry over his grave. I guess you're actually doing good. I mean, look at you, eating a healthy breakfast and shit. I barely got out of bed and I only did it because Paz insisted." Mabel said, her gaze fixed on Bill.

"I'm not doing that great, but unlike you I have to drag myself out of bed since I don't have someone to do it for me, at least not anymore. And the only reason I decided on a fruit salad is because I couldn't stomach anything else. I am not doing good, Shooting Star, at all." Bill said, his tone venomous and his eyes narrowed at Mabel. He couldn't deny that he was a bit jealous that she didn't have to suffer alone. 

Still, he shouldn't take it out on her like that. Mabel did nothing wrong other than being lucky not be left alone. "I'm sorry." Bill said, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "As you can see I'm doing that horrible that I am snapping at you for no real reason." 

"And I'm sorry for yesterday. That was why I came, actually. I shouldn't have pushed you like that." Mabel said, wiping the tears that formed in her eyes. "It's fine, I get it. I would've done the same most likely." "And what are you going to do now?" Mabel asked as she put the empty bowl in the sink. 

"Wish I knew. Nothing for the moment, that's for sure. But after I get my shit together, I... I don't know. Are you trying to get rid of me?" Bill teased, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "No, and I mean it! Honestly, I was asking because I didn't think you'd want to stay here any longer and," Mabel chuckled, "this may seem funny, but I am not sure how I feel about that. Weird, I know!" 

Bill chuckled as well. "Well, I am not leaving for a few while, that's for sure. And in the meantime I'll make sure you'll want me gone when I'll actually leave!" He said, smirking. "Oh, good luck with that! You can't possibly be that bad!" Mabel said, crossing her arms over her chest, a smirk plastered on her face.

"Oh, really? We'll see about that!" Bill said, eyes narrowed at Mabel. "Oh, it's on then!" Mabel said, eyes narrowed at Bill, as well. The two bursted into laughter and for a moment both of them didn't feel quite as bad. 

"Are you sure you're good on your own?" Mabel asked after she stopped laughing, taking a serious stance. Bill nodded. "I'll be ok, Shooting Star, don't worry." Bill said, which was a lie. They both knew that, but neither of them addressed it. Mabel only nodded and then she was on her way, since Wendy insisted that since she's out already, she might aswell go and do the groceries. 

Bill closed the door behind Mabel and leaned against the door for what seemed like ages. He wasn't sure how things were gonna be and what he was going to do moving from that point forward. He didn't even realize how clueless he was about his own life until Mabel pointed it out. 

He knew that she was just making conversation, she was just as uncomfortable during that whole encounter as he was, and that he had plenty of time to figure shit out. But that wasn't enough, or at least it felt like it. He felt like he needed to know these things for certain and he realized with dismay that he really needed to know those things.

His way of keeping himself in check and ensuring a certain feeling of comfort and safety relied until then on Dipper, but now with Dipper gone he needed to find something else. He was going to be forced to go back at basing his comfort and feeling of safety on a tight schedule, or at least more than before, and on a place, which was the last thing he wanted. 

He remembered just how bad it affected him when he first moved in in that very apartment. It felt like an eternity ago now, so many memories were made ever since that moment, but he could still vividly remember the first months he spent in that apartment.

He remembered how he grew colder toward Dipper, to the point where Dipper could only respond in the same way. He hated every second of it. Every second of looking across the room and seeing the love of his life right there, but not doing anything to fix what he broke out of fear, pure and sheer fear. Because, unfortunately, in some very superficial aspects, Dipper reminded him of someone Bill knew a long time ago. Someone whose mere mention sent chills down Bill's back even to that day.

Those months alone, months of unslept nights and days longing and fearing Dipper's company at the same, were the main reason why the demon didn't want to place all of his well-being into a place and a schedule which could be easily disrupted, but it seemed like he had no choice. 

That answered one of his questions, at least. He still needed to figure out what he was going to do after he finished his mourning and had to move on, but he still had plenty of time for that. There were other things he needed to focus on in that very moment, like not turning into a hot mess and organizing his husband's funeral.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, for those wondering... Dipper collected 11,192 pictures for that whole "a picture for every day of their relationship" thing. Just saying... in case anyone was curious.

Bill stared at his husband’s grave, no tears coming out. He didn’t cry at all the entire day and he could feel everyone judging him for it. He was married to Dipper after all, and the brunette made it a point out of proving just how in love they were when he was alive, so how could Bill be so heartless and not cry, not even once? 

Bill knew that it didn’t matter what they said, he knew that very well and he knew that he adored Dipper, both now and when the brunette was alive, but in those moments he tried to focus on anything but the reason he was in that situation on the first place. 

He didn’t shed a tear when he said his speech, not even one. He didn’t even need to collect himself once, nor did he stutter over his words. Not even once. He seemed fine. Not happy, but not sad either. It was as if Dipper’s death was some plain collateral damage in the demon’s grand scheme of things, something that was not worth any sort of emotion.

Or at least that was how it looked. Because the blonde’s emotionless tone and blank expression showed just how bad he felt. That, of course, if you bothered to look beyond the fake smiles and charming demeanour that was as fake as it could get, but which Bill had put on as a mask, mask that ensured he was safe from the outside world. Mask that he wore for so long that it turned into a second skin.

He learned not to show any emotion, because it was a weakness and if you had any weaknesses you’d be torn apart. He repeated those words over and over again and shielded himself with them to the point where they sank into his skin, slowly but surely becoming part of him. And they turned into the words he lived by, acting as a second skin. And they did that so well that Bill couldn’t even cry at his husband’s funeral. Not even now when he was alone he couldn’t do it. And, oh, how much he needed it.

Bill fell to his knees, closing his eyes and trying to force tears to come out, but it was all futile. He wrapped his arms around himself, biting his lip as he tried to find the best way to say that he was a horrible husband who couldn’t even cry at the funeral of the person he called the love of his life. He gritted his teeth, clenching his fists. 

“Bill...” Came Mabel’s voice from next to the demon and Bill opened his eyes and glanced at Mabel, before looking anywhere but at her. “I’m horrible, Shooting Star... I can’t even cry, not even a tear.” He muttered, no words choked out through sobs, not even a single voice crack. “And? The fact that you’re not crying doesn’t mean that you don’t love Dipper and that you’re not hurting. Everyone mourns in their own way.” Mabel asked, almost putting a hand on Bill’s shoulder, but stopping herself halfway through.

“I know, I really do. It’s not that. It’s just... I need to do it, I should do it, but I can’t and all I’m doing instead is bottle up everything and... and... and it hurts so bad. And I just want it all out and there’s nothing I can do about it, Shooting Star.” Bill said, staring at the ground. He put a hand on the freshly dug ground, running his fingertips through it. “He shouldn’t be dead. It’s all my fault.” He breathed out.

“It’s not your fault. There was nothing you could’ve done. That was the day even you said he was going to die and it happened. The universe just wanted him dead... or something.” Mabel said, sitting down next to Bill. “No, Shooting Star, it is my fault. I could’ve protected him better, I could’ve healed him when he got hurt. I could’ve done anything except for letting him die into my arms. The worst part is that he spent his last minutes trying to calm me down. I should’ve done something.” Bill said, clenching his fist, grabbing a handful of dirt.

He threw it at the pine tree that was in front of him, angry at himself for letting Dipper die in his arms like that. He could’ve done so much, he could’ve saved him, but he was too careless, too scared. He deserved all the pain he felt, and he deserved to be forced to live with it without any way to relieve it. Because it was his fault that Dipper died. 

“You did your best and it wasn’t enough, and that’s ok, Bill. No need to blame yourself like this...”

“Don’t you dare say it! Don’t you dare say that he wouldn’t have wanted me to blame myself like this! I know that, oh, I really do, but he’s gone and what he would’ve wanted and what he would’ve thought doesn’t matter, because he’s not here. If he was, we wouldn’t have been here right now, we wouldn’t have been in this situation! So stop talking about him as if his hypothetical thoughts matter!” Bill, interrupting Mabel because he knew what she was about to say and he didn’t want to hear it.

He got up, glancing one more time at the place where his husband was gonna lay for the rest of all eternity and then he spun on his heels and headed to his car. The drive home was quiet, Bill not even bothering to turn on the radio. He didn’t look away from the road for a split second, although it was so tempting to just let go of the steering wheel for a few seconds, as if that would do anything other than cause him some annoying injuries. 

He parked the car in its usual spot, turning around to look if there was anything on the backseat. There was nothing, Bill turning back around and leaning back on his seat. So many memories were made in that car. So many trips to the supermarket, so many hunting trips, so many dates planned by either one of them that the other was dying to find more about. Their very honeymoon was spent for the most part in that car. All the stolen kisses and hand holding, all of the songs the two sang along two in the most dramatic of ways and all of the laughs that followed. 

Bill got out of the car, the void inside of his heart growing bigger. His insides turned colder and Bill didn’t even realize until then how cold he truly was because he lacked a soul. Because ever since that part of not having a soul starting taking its toll him, he always had Dipper by his side to keep him warm.

He went up the stairs, forcing himself to take each and every step, his body almost physically hurting because of the effort. When he reached the door of thei-his apartment, he held back from opening it right away. He simply couldn’t bring himself to be faced with all the wonderful moment the two had together, only for then to be reminded of the cruel reality that Dipper was gone. But he had to, because he didn’t have anywhere else to go. 

He opened the door, stepping inside and looking around. Everything was the same as a few days ago before he left. He pushed the door close and locked it, placing the keys on the key holder, next to another set of keys that once belonged to Dipper. In that moment he realized that it wasn’t Dipper’s death that was actually painful, but rather the small things. It was the memories that overcome you through the most random of things. It was the empty space on the bed, on the couch, at the table or in the car. It was all the pictures on the walls. It was all the inner jokes that you will never be able to make. It was reaching out for your phone only to realize that you can’t call or text the person you so need to talk to.

Only then Bill realized why despite how much it hurt he couldn’t bring himself to show any emotion, because he associated the emotion with Dipper’s death, not with his absence. A single tear ran down Bill’s cheek, cursing himself for doing things wrong again, for the Axolotl-knows how many times that week. 

He leaned with his back against the door, head falling back, his eyes fixed at the ceiling. Another tear fell down his face, over the dried marks of the previous one from the demon’s skin. “I’m sorry...” He muttered, for a very specific somebody and for no one at the same time. He wished he could apologize for every single mistake he made to a single person, but that person wasn’t there, that person was dead, and muttering out the words into nothingness was the closest he could get to actually saying them.

He stood up straight, walking into the kitchen and instinctively going to the drawer he kept his pills in. Panic rushed over him as soon as he was met with the half empty drawer, only Dipper’s pills being there. Only then he remembered he moved the bottles into another drawer the last time he was home. Still, he didn’t close that drawer, instead he took the bottles from it and examined them before throwing them away. Dipper was dead, they weren’t needed anymore. 

He closed the drawer, finding his own pills in another drawer, taking his daily dose before placing them back in their original drawer. He stood there, frozen into place, staring at the closed drawer for a little longer, arranging his thoughts in his head. He then spun on his heels and headed out of the kitchen and onto Dipper’s office. 

He never really went there, not because he wasn’t allowed or something of the sorts, Dipper would never forbid Bill to go somewhere, no, but because he never needed to go there as Dipper only used that room for his art supplies. Even Dipper only went there when he wanted to do something more than just sketching. 

Since Bill never had any artistic inclinations he never really went there, which was why he was surprised by the amount of sketches of him that were covering the walls. He never doubted that a good chunk of Dipper’s sketches were of him, but he never thought there were that many. And only if it was just sketches. The sketches were just the ones that Bill spotted first. He couldn’t forget the oil painting, nor the dozen of other paintings and drawings that were taped to the walls. All of them were of him and Bill could feel his freckles turn red.

He looked around the room, sitting on the desk chair when he got to it. He covered his face with his hands, peeking from behind his fingers at the walls. The drawings were all still there. He covered his eyes again, his entire face going hot as he spun on the chair. He looked up at the painting hanging over the desk and he couldn’t look at it for more than two seconds, his freckles turning even brighter. He couldn’t believe that Dipper would go _that_ far, not sure of what to say or even think. Part of him was actually sad that he never saw all of that before Dipper died so he could gush to his husband about how happy and loved it made him feel.

Still, that wasn’t the time to admire all the beautiful drawings Dipper made of him. No, he came for something else, although he wasn’t sure for what. He looked around Dipper’s (messy) desk and started going through the endless amount of papers and notebooks Dipper had there. Bill found more sketches of him. He also found some notes Dipper wrote about his death, which Bill put away as fast as he could. There were some poems and short stories, as well as some sketches that made Bill’s face go hot as the demon gave his best to hide them. What caught Bill’s eye was a box labelled “For Bill”, in Dipper’s neat handwriting.

He took the box, ignoring everything else, deciding that was going to go through _all_ of it later. Now that box was what mattered. He placed it on the kitchen table and opened it, not sure what he was going to find in it. The very first thing that Bill saw was an envelope at the very top of the box. It had the words “For Bill” neatly written on it and a small triangle was drawn besides Bill’s name. Bill smiled, looking inside of the box one more time before opening the envelope.

In the envelope there was a single piece of paper, which Bill took out and unfolded so he can see what was on it. He ran his fingers over Dipper’s handwriting, almost on the verge of tears. There was just something about the way Dipper used to write his name, his name being the only thing the brunette wrote in cursive. 

_Dear Bill,_

_I... I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not saying anything. I thought about it and still do, because when I wrote this I was obviously, you know, alive. Anyway, I’ve been thinking about telling you, well, more like reminding you, about the fact that I might... will die really soon._

_You told me once that all of your predictions have no actual chances of being true, because the future was affected by the choices of every living being in the multiverse. Which might just save me, but only if I tell you about it. But if you’re reading this it obviously didn’t, or I just never told you anything._

_If it’s the latter, I’m sorry, I really am. What held me back, what is currently holding me back, is the possibility that the fact that I have a 70% chance of dying really soon will consume you and ultimately make you spend less time with me than you would otherwise. Because I’d much rather die than not get to spend my (possibly) last days with you._

_On a not-really-lighter tone, I have something for you. I’ve been working on pulling this together for the past few months and I know how much you love having a little something to remind you of the people you love/used to love, so I really think you’ll love it._

_I am not sure when you’re reading this or where you found it, but there’s a box in my office which is labelled as being for you and it’s full of photo albums. Those photos... well they’re one picture for every single day we’ve been together since I first asked you to be my boyfriend (August 23, 2014), until the day I will die, that day (April 13, 2045) included._

_I gave my best to find pictures for every single day, but sometimes there just weren’t any. If that happened I used some older one that I really love because I felt like I wouldn’t achieve the same thing. I want to show you just how many days we spent together and if proving my point means putting another origin date underneath some of the pictures, so be it._

_Each picture has a small message, a reminder of what we were doing that day and the date it was taken on, kinda like what people do with polaroids. I wanted to give you context. And although I said that I’ve only been working on this for the past few months, i’ve been collecting pictures and small details for this for years._

_You deserve the best thing to remember our time together by. ~~Or at least... that’s how I feel, not exactly sure about you...~~ Because I love you and I know you love me. You made my past 30 years the best years I could’ve possibly had and I can’t thank you enough for that. I hope this will bring you some joy and... make it easier, living without me, I mean. _

_I couldn’t really picture my life without you at this point, nor do I really see myself getting over your death, so I can only imagine how hard it must be for you. But you’ll be fine, you’ve been through worse, I should know that. And it’s not like this wouldn’t have happened at some point anyway, it just happened sooner rather than later._

_I hope you’ll continue living your best life, even without me in it. Go out, have fun! Dance around the house while listening to music loudly. Play the piano, cause you’re amazing at it and it just makes you so happy. See as much of the multiverse as you can, I know you always said you wanted to do that._

_Read any book you can get your hands on and take bubble baths and go out to take random walks into the woods and... and never stop gardening, never stop whistling a tune that got stuck in your head while you’re watering the flowers, never stop doing anything that makes you as happy as I saw you be for the past 30 years._

__

_And most importantly, please, please, never neglect yourself. You’re extremely important and the fact that I am not there with you is not important enough that you put anything but yourself first. I know that by the time you’ll read this I’ll be dead and my opinion won’t matter and I can’t blame you for ignoring everything I just wrote, but... at least I tried. Because I care about you and the last thing I want is for you to be anything less than happy._

_I love you, Bill. I love you so much and despite the fact that I say it every day and that I give my best to not only say it, but show it, I still feel like I need to say it again. As I've said I can’t picture my life without you in it at this point, nor can I picture how my life would’ve been without you and I don’t want to. Goodbye, in case I never got to say that, and I am so sorry that you have to read this._

_My infinite love,_

_Dipper._

_April 12, 2045._

Bill stared at the letter, tears streaming down his face, admiring Dipper’s elegant signature. He remembered the first time he saw it after they got married, his heart skipping a beat as he saw his very own last name written in Dipper’s handwriting. What he loved the most was how the “C” almost looked like a snake. 

Tears fell onto the paper, joining the dried tears that were already on it when Bill opened the envelope, and Bill covered his mouth with his free hand. He sat the paper down and covered mouth and nose with his hands as more tears kept running down Bill’s face. He closed his eyes, clasping his hands together and resting his chin on his hands. 

_Dipper spun Bill, Bill ending with his back against Dipper’s chest. Dipper wrapped an arm around Bill’s waist lazily, the two swaying along with the soft music playing in the background. Dipper leaned down and kissed Bill’s cheek, the blonde giggling._

_Bill looked up, his eyes meeting Dipper’s, and he grinned. Dipper smiled, finding Bill to be the cutest being in the entire multiverse in that moment. Because there was nothing more cute than a smiley and giggly Bill, at least from Dipper’s point of view. He spun Bill again, this time around the demon winding up pressed against Dipper’s chest, laughing as he wrapped his arms around Dipper’s torso._

_Bill then stood on his tiptoes, cupping Dipper’s face with his hand as he leaned in closer to kiss the brunette. Their lips touched for a few seconds, the sweet kiss leaving a nice taste in Bill’s mouth. The blonde reached for his glass of white wine from the table, drinking all the wine left before Dipper took away the empty glass._

_“Bill, love, don’t you think you’ve had a little too much?” Dipper asked, running a hand through Bill’s curls, Bill leaning into the touch. “No... faaaaar from it. I drank waaaaay more than this before and I was just fine...” Bill said, words slurred together, a hiccup following. Dipper smiled sympathetically, kissing the top of Bill’s head._

_“Oh, sunshine, let’s take you to bed. You’re really drunk.” Dipper said and he placed the empty wine glass in the sink. He then nodded in the direction of the radio, the device turning itself off as Dipper picked Bill up in his arms. Bill yelped in surprise, clinging to Dipper in the following few seconds, Dipper looking at his husband with the fondest smile on his face anyone could muster._

_He kissed Bill’s cheek, Bill giggling and hiding his face in Dipper’s shoulder, his cheek burning hot and his freckles turquoise with a red hue. Dipper carried Bill to their bedroom, sitting Bill down on the bed, Bill wrapping his arms around Dipper’s neck and not letting the brunette stand up straight. “Don’t leave... please...” Bill muttered, Dipper sitting down next to Bill._

_“I won’t. I won’t ever leave you.” Dipper said, caressing Bill’s cheek. “Now, how about you get some sleep?” He asked softly, kissing Bill’s forehead afterwards. Bill nodded, pulling Dipper into a hug and putting his head on Dipper’s chest. Dipper started stroking Bill’s hair until the demon fell asleep, giving his best to maintain the smile from his face the entire time._

Bill looked through the photo albums, both smiling and crying at the same time, both the happy memories and the painful feeling caused by Dipper’s absence pulling at his heartstrings. There were pictures of them cuddling and kissing. Pictures of Dipper sketching Bill. Pictures of Bill playing the piano. Pictures of them dancing. Pictures from their countless dates. Pictures from their honeymoon. A picture even from their wedding night of them dancing in a bar, both beyond drunk. There were silly selfies they sent each other, pictures that were clearly candid and pictures where the one in the picture was clearly posing for it. 

Those pictures summed up their relationship, or at least the happy parts of it. But who wanted to remember anything except for the good days? Especially since the bad days weren’t even caused by things they could help. Bill looked at those pictures and he saw his past 30 years in them, 30 perfect years he spent with the love of his life.

A knock came and Bill turned around to look at the door out of reflex. He wiped off his tears and headed to the door, where he was met by Mabel. She looked sheepishly at the demon, holding a plate in her hand. “Pacifica made some chocolate cake and I thought you’d like a piece.” She said, Bill nodding and letting her come inside before closing the door.

“You’re not doing very well and I am not helping. I’m sorry, Bill, I really am.” She said as she entered the kitchen and put the plate on the table. “It’s fine, Shooting Star. You’re not doing great either so I can’t expect you to be at your best.” Bill said, grabbing a fork and starting to eat the chocolate cake. 

“Yeah, I guess...” Mabel said, pulling closer the photo album that was opened on the table. She started looking through it, silence falling between the two. “You guys kept some really detailed photo albums.” Mabel pointed out, Bill laughing at her remark. “Pinetree did. I had no clue these even existed until today. And they are all for me to have something to remember him by, apparently.” Bill said, staring at the plate from his hand.

“Wow, I feel almost insulted because he left you not only these, but also this...” Mabel said taking out a necklace from her pocket. The pendant was a single small diamond which shined in the light and Bill couldn’t take his eyes off it. “And I got... nothing.” Mabel finished, her remark as sarcastic as it could get.

“He bought me a diamond?” Bill asked, eyebrows furrowed. Something didn’t add up. “I mean, it’s pretty and all, I love it and I’m super grateful and I’ll wear it for the rest of eternity, but why?” Bill asked, looking up at Mabel and away from the diamond. Mabel smirked. 

“Because it’s not just a diamond. I went through some of his stuff earlier this week and in one of his notes he wrote that given the fact that he will be cremated he might aswell take half of his ashes and bury them here, so I can have something, and the other half to have them turned into a diamond so you can have a part of him forever. You know, without it being... weird.” Mabel explained, Bill chucking at the last sentence.

“So that’s... half of my husband?” Bill asked, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “Yeah, even in death you have to share him with me.” Mabel teased, causing Bill to grimace. “That came out wrong on like... so many levels, Shooting Star.” Bill pointed out, the two laughing seconds later.

Bill looked down at the necklace, taking it in his hand and admiring the diamond lovingly. That was the closest he’ll ever get to Dipper, for the very obvious reasons, and he was going to make the most of it. “I also have this...” Mabel said, putting a gold band on the table, gold band that matched Bill’s. Bill took it in his hand and looked it from all sides, running his finger over the date engraved inside of it. 

“I saved it because I found it wrong to have it burned, but I don’t have what to do with it. It holds literally zero emotional importance to me, but to you it must mean a lot. Especially because of that matching rings thing Dipper told me about once.” Mabel said, Bill looked up from the ring and smiling. 

“Thank you, Shooting Star! It really does mean a lot to me and I can’t thank you enough for saving it.” Bill said, putting afterwards the ring on the chain, next to the diamond. He put the necklace around his neck and looked down at it, smiling pleased at the sight. 

It hurt not having Dipper by his side, sure, but that didn’t mean that was gonna give up. Far from it. His husband went above and beyond, from the grave no less, to make sure that he was ok, the least he could was not give up. 

A week ago he was clueless about what he was going to do now that Dipper was gone, but in that moment not only did he know what he was going to do, but he had all the details sorted out. There was nothing clouding his judgement anymore and everything was clear again. He could go on without Dipper and he was going to go on without him.


End file.
